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And I don’t know how to do that.
So, I dig myself a deeper hole.
“Well, I wasn’t gonna say, but it’s Ben’s mom.” Ben is going to hate me. The other two bust out into laughter, and Ben shakes his head, not even giving me the time of day to glance my way.
“Nice cover up. Not that we don’t think you’ve already slept with Ben’s mom. Sorry, Benny. Who is she?”
I shrug, the guilt tearing at my bones. “Trust me, no one special. Just my typical weekly fling.” Why, you asshole? Why?
Kip leans forward, curious. “Okay, you have me intrigued. Do tell. Blonde? Brunette? Married? Underage?”
Jesus. I scoff at him, disgusted, as if I wasn’t this person less than a month ago. But I’m too chicken shit to show this new side of me, so I hide behind more lies. “Come on…you know she’s ripe and willing.” Everyone jumps as Ben’s chair skids across the floor as he shoves out of his seat.
“I’m out.”
“Dude! Where you going?” Kip yells.
Ben looks my way. “Just not feeling the bullshit.” He throws a few bills on the table and walks off.
“What’s his problem?” Levi chimes in.
“Who knows? The anniversary of his dad’s death and the fire is coming up…”
Fuck. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own fairytale shit, I forgot about the anniversary. The guilt presses down on me to the point of suffocation.
Kips slaps me on the back. “Don’t worry about him. He’s probably just jealous. Not everyone can be as carefree as you. I love my wife, but at times, I envy you. No strings. No commitments. To be able to sleep with women, no feelings or remorse…”
My throat suddenly becomes dry. Even my swagger is ashamed of me. My conscience looks the other way. All because I don’t have the balls to admit I’m not that person anymore. That the person who changed my ways is currently knitting my ball sack holder, and I’m gladly approving. That she’s Kip’s cute-as-a-button, spitfire-in-bed, cousin.
Chapter 17
Bridget
One week later…
“Oh, boy, these look super yummy!” I boast at the over-decorated sugar cookies drowning in sprinkles. Anna squeals as she shoves a cookie in her mouth.
“These are delicious, Bridget!”
“They sure are, master chef.” I eat a small bite, hiding my cringe at the taste of pure flour, too much sugar, and not enough eggs. “You were right. You do know the perfect recipe!”Her infectious smile helps me swallow down the log of ingredients shoved into a bowl, wishing it was cookie mix.
My phone vibrates on the counter. I flip it over to see who’s calling. My father. Again. This is the third time he’s called today. Like the last two times, I hit decline. I’ve been so angry that neither of my parents have reached out to see if I’m doing okay, that now, it feels like it’s too late. That or maybe it’s the guilt. For years, I’ve harbored this resentment. Every time I looked at my father, it was a reminder of what I lost. What he did. But lately, I’ve come to the hard realization that it’s not all on him. We were both at fault for Jax’s death. Him for denying us, me for my selfishness. Maybe part of me fixated on my anger toward my father, so the fact that I was the one who made him leave would hurt less.
For years, I pointed blame. Fed off the hate. Denied myself of my dreams. If Jax didn’t get to chase his, I didn’t either. It was my burden to carry. And I had accepted my fate. My life would be lived in the shadows of a dream. Feeling hollow, wishing for something that was no longer mine. And I had been slowly accepting that. Until I walked into that bar. Until I made a bold move and gave myself to a stranger. Until he shined this vibrant light into my darkness and forced me out of those shadows. He showed me it was okay to love again. To move on. To accept that fate is sometimes messy. And I still deserve to live. Jax’s life was cut way too short, but that doesn’t mean I had to die with him.
I lean against the counter, a silly grin forming at the thought of us. How crazy this is. I propositioned him in a bar, and now we’re dating and in love. I cover my mouth to conceal my girly giggle. Just thinking about him creates a flutter in my stomach. How hyperaware he is of every little inch of my body. I feel my cheeks warm at the image of him, naked and taking me to an unfathomable level of euphoria.
It hasn’t even been a full day, and I already miss him terribly. I don’t want to act needy or clingy. It’s been so long since I’ve been in a relationship. Not to mention it’s only the second one I’ve had in my entire existence. I need to play it cool. Hard to get. He already has you, silly. True. I unlock my phone, swiping away the missed call, and type out a message.
